


Nothing sweet about it

by fyborg23



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fighting Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:36:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyborg23/pseuds/fyborg23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm not looking to start shit."</p>
<p>"Just finish it?" Prust gave Alex a knowing look.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing sweet about it

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr, I read this:  
>  _fic idea: alex asks prust to teach him how to defend himself but he really just want to beat up anyone taking runs at gally #and then when gally discovers it he's like f u i can do it myself #then gay sex #im a genius_  
>  and did the logical thing.

"Prusty, teach me how to fight."

Prusty looked up from his skates at Alex, both eyebrows raised. "Make a fist."

Alex did. Prusty leaned over, made a show of looking at his hand, craning his neck around. Prusty made a not-bad face, proclaimed, "At least your thumb's not in. You're pretty much there in knowing how to fight."

Alex snorted, his irritation levels rising, "I'm serious."

Prusty shook his head, turned back to his skates, and untied them. Alex did not stomp his way to his stall. Instead he stood there, drenched in sweat and looking increasingly like a fucking moron in practice gear in a sea of half-naked hockey players.

Prusty, after at least three ice ages passed, shrugged off his shoulder pads, affecting a surprised blink at still seeing Alex standing. "Jesus, kid."

"Like I said. I'm serious."

Prusty blew out a breath through his teeth, raked a hand through his flow. "Chuckie. Once you get in the business of throwing around fists, you don't get out."

"It's hockey, not the mob."

"Voice of experience, kid. Not that you have one." Prusty chuckled at his stupid joke. For a guy who wasn't 30 yet, he sure loved lording his age over Alex.

Alex glared at him, refraining from picturing his head on fire because Alex actually needed him. Prusty just scratched at the small hairs underneath his jaw.

"I'm not looking to start shit."

"Just finish it?" Prust gave Alex a knowing look, "Ok, padawan, come in early tomorrow, and you can learn the basics."

Alex grimaced. _Early_ in Prust's book meant eight. 

Prusty picked up on Alex's mental bitching, and said casually, "Of course, if you don't have to--"

"No. I want to."

Prusty moved his lips into something that could be called a smile, "Good, Galchenyuk. No learning without a little suffering." 

*

Alex trudged into a side gym, seeing nothing but Prusty and a couple of floor mats. Prusty tossed a taekwondo helmet into Alex's face, saying, "I'm not going to get murdered in my sleep by all of Montreal because you got a concussion. Wear it."

Alex fumbled at the straps on the foam helmet, but managed to slip it on, just as Prusty tossed him some tape-- and then snatched it back just as quickly, "I'm kinda thinking the tape is for the more advanced classes, Chuckie. So show me your ready stance."

Alex palmed the crown of his helmet-- he wouldn't want to chew gum wearing it, it was so tight-- and raised his fists in front of him.

"I'm assuming you're a righty, because you shoot left, yeah?" Prusty crossed his arms, frowning slightly at him. Alex nodded. 

Prusty moved closer, stuck a leg in between Alex's feet, and nudged Alex's left foot slightly off to the side and behind. Moved Alex's right elbow closer to his body, and lowered Alex's left fist. 

Prusty stepped back, said, "Better. You would spread your legs out a little more on dry land, for better leverage, but since ice's slippery, so there's a trade-off between stability and leverage."

Alex looked at Prusty. That probably was one of the more... _intelligent_ things he had heard Prusty say?

Prusty shot him an annoyed look, "You do know, I get paid to do this for a living. That suggests I'm all right at it. Besides, look at Parros, Mr. College Boy." Prusty snorted loudly.

Alex shot back, "Yeah, sorry, not used to the whole getting punched in the face thing."

Prusty rolled his eyes. "Just throw a punch already."

Alex gave the air a-- what was it? Right upper-cut? Prust motioned for more punches, and Alex complied, moving his fists off-beat a couple more times-- then Prust stepped in and laid a rough hand on Alex's forearm, "Wait. You're just punching the same spot."

"There's just the head, and the hands to get. Think the head would have more results."

Prust rubbed the bridge of his nose, his eyes scrunching in pain. "Have you ever seen Iginla fight?"

"Yeah." Who hadn't? The amount of hockey players skating around saying "Jarome Iginla hit me and it was awesome" was very _Mean Girls._

"If you look at his tape, you can see him getting hit in the face, and while his man's busy with that--" Prust tapped a fist softly against Alex's abs, "Iginla goes for the gut. Great place to hit; not too much padding there, and it's going to knock the wind out of your guy. He's sucking air when you go in for another punch-- either to the gut or to the head."

"What about, like, I don't know, hardening your abs? Doesn't that work?" Alex had seen that on some documentary once, long ago.

Prusty smiled, "Only if you know they're going for them. Do you know how to do that?"

"Breathe out a little--" Alex demonstrated, raising his shirt so Prusty can see.

Prusty smirked, "Good. But you're a good skater, so you can kinda shift away a little if you can see them coming."

"Don't see Don Cherry liking that," muttered Alex.

"Well, you're Russian and American, so he doesn't like your pretty face anyway. Just--" Prusty reached down, touched Alex's hips, "wiggle them."

Alex moved them, feeling extraordinarily stupid. 

"Try again, Galchenyuk."

Alex darted, putting out a left underhand, a right blow, another right blow, with a final left upper cut--

"Better," Prusty said, looking like a hairy Yoda. "Be sure to bend your knees. You never want to lock them, that's asking for trouble."

Alex raised an eyebrow, "Voice of experience, eh?"

Prusty gave him a firm whap to the back of Alex's helmet. Even through the foam, it kinda hurt. So Alex may have yelped. May.

Prusty, the bastard, cackled. "The thing about fighting: you will get hit, and it will hurt," he intoned like he was handing down the Ten Commandments.

"Shouldn't that have been covered, like first thing?"

"Get to it, Gally A." Prust raised his fists, tossing his flow back, "Time's a-wasting."

*

The Bell Centre shouted out the last strains of O Canada, _Protégera nos foyers et nos droits_ , while Alex looked down at his skates, shifting his weight from one side to another. Alex could also feel Spezza's eyes boring a hole through his head. Even if Prusty was out of the lineup again--

Fuck. Alex closed his eyes, recalling the final lesson Prusty had ever-so-wisely imparted: _It's not the physical shit, it's the lead-up_. Ok. The Sens should be a easy-- or, ok, less-than-difficult-- two points. 

Even if everyone and their goldfish remembered the 2013 playoffs.

The Sens had opted for their ugly spaghetti Os sweaters tonight. Petty as fuck, but since Therrien had to match up Alex's line against their first line Alex would take whatever edge he could get.

The lights came on, and the referee skated out to drop the puck.

Alex inhaled, clamping on his helmet, and settled in for the opening face off.

*

Halfway into the second period, with the Habs leading-- just barely-- Gally stole the puck from Conacher, ready to dish it over to Alex, who was rushing over the blue line to get on-fucking-sides-- _stupid, stupid, stupid _\--__

__From the weak side of the rink, Neil motherfucking _charged_ , flattening Gally. Gally fell on his front, while Neil leaned away, churning down-ice with the puck. Gally got up, clutching his stick with a bloody snarl on his face, and put the pedal down, edging towards Neil's back. Alex stormed down ice, forgetting about coverage and backing up Gorges, the #25 on Neil's back locked in Alex's sights--_ _

__Gally beat Alex to the punch by laying some stickwork on Neil's leg--_ _

__Neil whirled around, laying a cross-check on Gally's chest--_ _

__Gally cackled, the sick motherfucker, throwing down his gloves, shouting, "Big man like you, you've gotta have a tiny dick!" Neil shook off his gloves, yanked Gally in by his sweater--_ _

__Neil got in the first punch, in Gally's stomach, Gally curled up around Neil's fist, his face in a grimace. Alex hit top speed, flinging off his own gloves, and twisted Neil's raised arm just as Neil was winding up with another punch--_ _

__Alex shouted, "Pick on someone your size!", pulling Neil off Gally and laying in a left uppercut--_ _

__Neil bared his teeth, sliding away from Gally and laid a hard right to Alex's cheek--_ _

__Fuck, that didn't _even_ hurt. Alex yanked Neil's sweater down and pounded Neil's jaw with a overhand. Neil's jaw must be made of fucking stone, _christ_ , that one did hurt-- He was still on his skates--_ _

__Neil yanked at Alex's helmet, trying to get it off at the same time he was putting down a right backfist--_ _

__The referee and linesmen took ahold of Alex's arms, a voice in his ear saying, "That's enough, kiddo."_ _

__Alex stood there, and a linesman had to push him along the ice to get him moving. The Bell Centre was in a roar, and Alex could hear the sticks tapping against the boards--_ _

__The last thing Alex saw on the ice was Neil wiggling his fingers obnoxiously as he skated towards the penalty box, his sweater dangling off his neck, blood blooming on his wide forehead._ _

__

__*_ _

__"What the fuck, Chuckie?" Gally burst into the infirmary, still wearing hockey pants but not his sweater. If he had made the trainer currently stitching up Alex's face slip, Alex was going to make Gally pay. Jeez._ _

__The trainer firmly dug in his fingers in Alex's very sore face, concentrating on the last two stitches. "There. Keep it clean, keep it dry. I don't want to deal with staph infections." Giving Alex's face a firm pat with some cotton pad, he slid back from the exam table and stood up. Nodding at Gally, the trainer left the infirmary._ _

__Gally leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, the corners of his mouth tight. The intimidation factor was slightly spoiled by the fact that Gally was wearing soccer sandals on his socked feet._ _

__Alex would've grimaced, but he could still feel each stitch along his temple, and most of his face was throbbing in time with his heartbeat._ _

__"What in the fuck possessed you?" Gally said, voice very low and even. Alex squirmed on the table, feeling the paper covering crinkle underneath his ass. Gally flopped down on the stool, burying his face in his hands. Gally's ears were turning bright red, and Alex could hear Gally mutter "what a fucking idiot"._ _

__Alex thought this was pretty inconvenient on two points: Gally was blocking Alex's exit, and there was a little stream of blood rolling down Alex's cheek, but you didn't make sudden moves around an angry Gally. So Alex sat there. bleeding, while the TV was replaying the power play goal the Sens got after that._ _

__Gally looked up from his hands, and wiggled his finger towards his own face, "You're bleeding a little. May want to mop it up."_ _

__Alex grabbed a handful of cotton pads, pressing at least four of them on his stitches. Gally stood up, looked towards the TV, then back at Alex. Alex looked back, studying the red blotches on Gally's forehead. Gally really needed to get better fitting helmets._ _

__"God fucking damnit, Alex. Never heard of third-man-in?"_ _

__"He was murdering you!"_ _

__Gally narrowed his eyes. A considering expression came across his sneer-- "I can take care of myself," Gally said, his eyes still pretty icy._ _

__Alex managed to force out a "sorry"-- followed by Gally's derisive laugh. "What, Galchenyuck, you think you're the king of the mountain because you're at the magical six-foot mark?"_ _

__Alex's face now was both throbbing in pain and burning. "Fuck you, Gallagher, where's the gratitude?"_ _

__Gally's eyebrows shot up, "Gratitude? For you being such a fucking dickhead? Yeah, fuck that."_ _

__"So, what you just want me to keep skating when they're trying to take runs at you?" Alex got off the exam table, brushing past him towards the door._ _

__Gally stood up, stretching to his _alleged_ 5'9 height, his shoulders squared. Alex looked at Gally, his hand hovering over the door knob. Gally looked back, managing the trick of looking up while looking down his nose at Alex. _ _

__Alex snapped, "Do you mind? I do have to change."_ _

__Gally mockingly motioned an _after you_ , his face as pissed off as Alex felt._ _

__Alex-- and he wouldn't admit this under a cross-examination-- stomped down the hall like some three-year-old, slamming open the locker room door, and chucking most of his equipment into his stall. Pricey gave Alex a glance and then thought better of it. The rest of the boys followed Pricey._ _

__The room felt like badly-gelled jello. Alex pressed his lips together, and plopped down on the bench, attacking his socks so furiously it took a couple tries to yank them off. The same went for the under-armor shirt he was wearing._ _

__He clenched his hands. They were fucking shaking. Alex forced himself to breathe, squeezing his eyes closed. Everyone was quiet, but not quite enough, seeing as they moved out of the room like a herd of elephants._ _

__Alex was still staring at the back of his eyelids when he smelled the disgusting he-man deodorant Gally favored. Prying one eye open, he saw Gally, wearing only boxer briefs, with soaking wet hair, standing in front of him, one leg up on the bench right next to Alex. Gally leaned forward on his leg, his head propped up on his arm, with a smirk threatening at the corner of his mouth._ _

__Alex huffed out a sigh, resisting the urge to cover up his bare chest._ _

__Gally tilted his head. "A certain bird with a beard told me you were taking lessons from him." Alex ground his teeth. He would murder Prusty, even if it was the last thing he would do, just right after Alex fell through this hole in the ground._ _

__"You're not as funny as you think you are," Alex muttered, leaning away from Gally's ridiculous pose and wiggling off his cup, concentrating on getting into the shower, away from Gally's crotch._ _

__Gally grinned, _grinned_ , and pressed Alex against the wall with one hand. Alex froze, his hands still in the vicinity of his own junk, stopped thinking. Gally leaned closer-- like kissing-close-- and patted Alex's face, on the side without the stitches, rather insultingly. _ _

__"Aw, Chuckie, you're so sweet." If poisoned honey was an actual thing, it would apply to this non in front of Alex._ _

__Alex's cheeks were on fucking fire. "Nothing sweet about it, Gally," he said, fighting back against the quaver at the back of his throat, and pushed off Gally's hand on his chest--_ _

__Gally's hand didn't budge._ _

__Alex looked down at it, raw at the knuckles and rough at the palm where it touched Alex's bare chest. Gally set his nails into Alex's skin. Alex looked up into Gally's eyes, ready to complain--_ _

__"I smell," he said, rather intelligently._ _

__Gally ran his tongue underneath his teeth, looking Alex up and down, "A shower takes care of that."_ _

__Alex snorted, pushed aside Gally so he could get wet._ _

__Gally sprang up, his boxer briefs not leaving anything to Alex's imagination. "I should be there, you know, seeing as you have a head wound, just in case."_ _

__Alex rolled his eyes, and padded towards the showers. The water was the right side of warm, but the wrong side of pressure-- he winced as he shielded his stitches. Gally pushed him out of the spray, turning down the water, and lathering up his hands with the cheap shampoo. He shot Alex an expectant look, said, "Turn around."_ _

__"What?"_ _

__"Did you just totally ignore what you were told? If you let me shampoo your hair, it 'll be much easier to keep those stitches dry."_ _

__Which, ok, Gally had a point. So Alex bent his knees a little, feeling Gally's hands massage his scalp-- oh that felt fucking fantastic-- and let him maneuver Alex around to rinse his hair, ranking his nails through it. Gally slid his hand down Alex's neck, getting rid of the bubbles, breath warm on Alex's back. Alex shivered in the warm air, feeling Gally plastered against his back._ _

__Damnit. Alex was not going to pop one._ _

__"Don't move," Gally murmured into the top of Alex's shoulder, his chapped lips touching Alex's skin. He stroked down Alex's chest, mouthing at the nape of Alex's neck, and all Alex could think of was pushing Gally against the tile walls and stroking him off through those stupid boxer briefs--_ _

__Alex bit his lip, feeling Gally's teeth dig a little into his shoulder. Gally stuck a leg in between Alex's legs, the top of his thigh just meeting Alex's balls, and Alex closed his eyes._ _

__"Hey, Chuckie, pay attention," Gally said, grinding his soaking-wet underwear against Alex's ass, holding him against his chest._ _

__"Quit fucking around--" Alex broke off, distracted by Gally's hand on his cock, stroking him a little more firmly than Alex would've started off with, thumb underneath the head. Alex could feel Gally's teeth at the base of his neck, sucking small marks there. Alex moaned, feeling Gally's hard-on at the small of his back._ _

__Gally's other hand pressed on the marks he left on Alex's chest, making Alex squirm against the little needles of pain, as Gally stroked Alex's cock faster. Gally hitched his hips--_ _

__Alex could feel how turned on Gally was, how fucking hot he was for this--_ _

__"Fuck--" Gally panted, twisting his hand on Alex's cock, holding him ruthlessly, giving Alex a dirty grind from behind. Alex didn't want this to end, to have Gally making those ridiculously hot noises into his shoulder, to have Gally's hands on him--_ _

__Alex rocked his hips, fucking into Gally's hand, while Gally clutched at Alex's chest--_ _

__"C'mon, Chuck--" Gally whispered, twisting Alex's nipple while teasing at his cock, rocking his own between Alex's legs._ _

__Alex came, leaning against the wall while Gally stroked him through his orgasm. His chest heaving, his hands a little weak, Alex could barely stand. Gally tossed his head back, sticking his hands in his underwear and jacking off. Alex pulled Gally closer to him, resting a hand on Gally's frantic hands, giving them a squeeze--_ _

__"Fuck," Gally shouted, rocking his hips into their hands, and came, his face bright red. Gally gave himself a few more strokes, before he drew his hands out of his boxer briefs. They were so wet Alex couldn't see the come stains that surely were all over them. Gally had beautiful eyes, but Alex wasn't going to tell him. He looked fucking wrecked, and Alex wanted to pin Gally down so he could make Gally come again._ _

__Gally leaned up, brushing his lips against Alex's. Alex pushed back, kissing Gally with more teeth than necessary--_ _

__Gally scratched his chest, leaving deep red stripes on Alex's sternum, and pulled back with a sharp grin. "If you wanted to fuck, you could have asked, instead of making Neil beat you up."_ _

__Alex muttered, "It wasn't about that."_ _

__"Whatever," Gally said, going in for another kiss, biting at Alex's lower lip and stroking at Alex's neck, pressing at the small marks there, "Just don't do it again."_ _

__Alex didn't argue._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Kids, punching people in the jaw: Not Recommended. The human mandible is one of the hardest bones in the body.
> 
> Also I will never cease to find it hilarious that Gally has a [hockeyfights](http://www.hockeyfights.com/players/9044) page while Chucky doesn't, yet. 
> 
> I have nothing against the Senators, but it's not a leap of imagination to see some bad blood between the Canadiens and the Senators.
> 
> My thanks, with some minimal cursing, to Vero.


End file.
